Bullfighting; art or torture?

Recently CNN reported that bullfighting, absent in Mexico City for two years, might return which has caused protests by animal rights activists.

That story reminded me of the time when I was in Lima, Peru and I went to a bullfight.

It was touted to be a grand spectacle as the matador was a very famous one from Spain.

I can't remember how I was convinced to go. I went with my dear friend Rosa's father, Guillermo, and his friend. I'm not sure if my husband went (I don't remember him participating in much during that month long trip).

The first few fights were shocking and made me sick.

The team, which included two picadores (“lancers”) mounted on horseback, three banderilleros (“flagmen”), and a mozo de espada (“the lad of the swords”) and the matador made quick business of killing the bulls, which I thought were small.

When the famous Spanish matador was to fight, a giant bull entered the ring. He charged one picadore, the lancer on horseback. It was their job to drive their lances in the bull's back and neck muscles, which lowers his head to make him less dangerous. Their horses were heavily padded.

However the bull wasn't fazed by the lance and it went after one of the horses, trying several times to lift the horse, to the crowd's horror. It did lift it up and over and then raced off.

Bandalerillos used their pointed sticks to again lower the bull's head by stabbing it in the neck and back, but that bull was too big and too strong. He went after a bandalerillo, who hid behind the protective section of the fence. In a frenzy the bull ran after the other bandalerillo who also hid and the bull ended up jumping over the fence and into the crowd. It was chaos. Yet the bull made it back into the ring. The crowd went crazy.

When the matador came out, he worked the bull, which came so close to him, almost grazing him. The matador moved the cape as if in a ballet. That part seemed like art. The crowd went crazy again. After a good show, the crowd began to throw handkerchiefs into the ring while cheering. Confused, I turned to Guillermo. He told me the crowd wanted to save the bull.

More handkerchiefs. Lots and lots of handkerchiefs. More cheers for the bull. The noise was deafening as the crowd waited for the presiding judge to determine the fate of the heroic bull.

The judge eventually made the decision to pardon the bull. The stadium erupted with the crowd of 13,000 people on its feet. I admit I was also cheering to save the bull from a gruesome fate.

The matador's performance was cheered. He was presented with two ears and the tail (from some other bull who had not been pardoned). It was the highest honor. And it was bestowed on the famous matador from Spain.

I remember being exhausted after that. It was an amazing bullfight to witness but I vowed never ever to watch another one.

I understand why PETA is on a crusade to stop Mexico

City from allowing bullfights to resume. The one bullfight that I saw with the bull being saved and put out to pasture to sire other grand bulls was, if I squint my eyes, might somehow be called art. Yet the other bulls who perished, who fell to the ground as they died, with all the blood, was definitely not art but torture. Eyes squinted or eyes wide open.

Such an unfair fight.

Mexico's President Andrés Manuel López Obrador said that he would explore the possibility of holding a referendum on the future of bullfighting in the Mexican capital.

What's a girl to do?…hope he realizes that an age- old tradition doesn't need to continue when it involves such cruelty.